A True Link

Too many days watching patio stones and fence posts. The alley beyond called. I marched past the low garden gate to where the gravel meets the outer timber slats. Trapped in a thick knot of dry bindweed was a heavy galvanized chain link, rusted shut and half-buried in coarse pebbles. Neglected tension breeds decay. I planted my boots into the gritty ground, gripped both sides of the cold oval loop with my gloved hands, and ripped the dry roots away with a sharp heave. Grit showered down. I hauled the freed link upright, wedging its curved flank firmly into the gate latch notch. Heavy. Solid. The perimeter stands ready for the street.